“If I might interrupt,” I said, “Miss Vance is not the journalist-I am.”
He nodded. “And I understand, Mr. Van Dine, you’re with Samuel McClure-which is why I consented to your interview. I admire the muckraking Mr. McClure very much.”
“I’m sure he’ll be delighted to hear that. . Miss Vance is a friend, helping me out, you might say.”
“Such charming company is always a help,” he said to me. Then to Miss Vance, he said, “Should you ever decide to return to the theater, my dear, let me know. You cut a commanding figure, on the Chicago stage, and New York needs to know of you.”
Miss Vance was blushing from all this, and her delight was clear. “You’re very kind, C.F. Very kind.”
William brought everyone glasses of iced ginger ale.
“Help yourselves to the goodies,” Frohman said, even as he was doing so with chocolate kisses from one of the bowls. “I’m afraid I have a fierce sweet tooth. . and I’ve passed along my confection infection to William. . Isn’t that right, William?”
“Yes, it is,” William said with smile, regarding his employer with obvious fondness, before returning to his chair elsewhere in the room.
“We had a regular dessert orgy last night,” Frohman chuckled.
I was beginning to wonder how chocolate had figured into that; but I was not here to pry into such things-I had several other agendas. I began with my duties for the News. .
“I understand you visit London twice yearly,” I said, “to scout new plays and discover acting talent.”
One of Frohman’s specialties was introducing American actors to English audiences-and English actors to American audiences.
“I’m afraid I’ve fallen back to once a year,” he said. “These trips have become increasingly difficult for me.”
The articular rheumatism had developed after a fall on the porch of his home at White Plains three years before; ever since, he’d been a virtual prisoner in a suite at the Knickerbocker Hotel in Manhattan. Travel might have seemed an escape, if it hadn’t aggravated his condition so severely.
“That’s why I booked passage on this ship,” he said. “The Lucy’s the fastest ship on the Atlantic-and I can have the trip over and done with, as quickly as possible.”
Miss Vance asked, “Have you ever considered sending one of your staff to go to London, to see the new productions?”
“I’ve been tempted-but, in truth, I don’t trust anyone else’s judgment. . Whether a play works, or an actor has talent, that’s something I feel here. .” And he tapped his ample belly with a forefinger.
I asked, “Weren’t you wary of this talk of U-boats?”
“Frankly, I was. . My friends at the German Club. . Captain Boy-Ed and Colonel Van Papen. . advised me, in rather cryptic fashion, not to sail on this ship.”
This was an interesting wrinkle.
He was going on about the others who had tried to convince him not to travel on the Lusitania, which included many of his famous clients. Isadora Duncan and her dance troupe, and actress Ellen Terry, had cancelled their reservations on this ship to cross on the slower New York.
“The U-boat rumors are all about the Lucy,” Frohman said. “And taking an American liner is probably safer than sailing on a British ship. . but the faster the better, for me.”
“Worth the risk?”
“Worth the risk. How can anyone take this German bluster so seriously? But so many people are.”
“You’re of German descent, obviously. .”
He nodded, and frowned. “A German-American, yes. That doesn’t make me pro-German. But it does make me pro-American.”
“America isn’t in this war.”
“Yet. When we are, German-Americans like me will stand behind the Stars and Stripes. As a Jew, I know all too well of prejudice. . Now I see my fellow German-Americans already being viewed through a prism of bias.”
I made sure to write that down-that was a nice turn of phrase: “prism of bias.”
“For that reason, I’m producing a new play by the novelist Justus Miles Foreman. . I’ll introduce you, he’s crossing with us. . that deals with this subject. Opens in Boston in two weeks. The Hyphen, it’s called. . and it refers to the hyphen in the term German-American.”
I raised an eyebrow. “That would seem to be yet another risk you’re taking.”
He waved that off with a pudgy hand, right before it dipped back into the bowl of chocolates. “The arts. . even the popular arts. . must take a stand. I’m hoping to find a producer in Britain for the play, as well.”
That seemed optimistic.
“Of course,” he continued, “this trend to musicals and slangy ‘mystery’ plays threaten thoughtful drama, and the drawing-room comedy. . though I’m not really worried about these so-called ‘movies’-we won’t live to see them become more popular than the stage.”
I had enough for the News-it was time to reveal the role Miss Vance was truly playing. With a nod, I cued her.
“C.F.,” she said, “you may have noticed that I’m travelling with Madame DePage.”
He had.
She briefly explained her function as ship’s detective, and his eyes widened-he was fascinated by this, and they spoke for perhaps five minutes about her departure from the stage to the Pinkerton Agency.
“We are concerned about a theft ring aboard,” she told him.
He shifted, and pain tightened his face momentarily. “It’s rumored Madame DePage is travelling with the funds she raised.”
“I have heard that rumor,” Miss Vance said with a smile.
“Which is why you are her devoted companion. I also believe George Kessler. . an old acquaintance, if something of a blowhard. . may be foolishly travelling with. . well, that’s not for me to say.”
But it was for me to note, both mentally and literally.
Miss Vance sat forward. “Are you travelling with any valuables or a large amount of money? Sir, you can trust us. . Staff Captain Anderson has already vouched-”
“It’s ‘C.F.,’ ” he said, “and as a matter of fact, yes, I am travelling with a considerable amount of cash. Normally, I would have funds in various English banks, but we had. . there’s no use trying to disguise the fact. . some financial reverses. Last year was a bad one for my theater syndicate.”
“So,” I said, picking up on this, “you’re taking along funds with which to buy new properties.”
“Yes, if I’m lucky enough to find any. . There’s fifty thousand dollars, in that bulging briefcase by my desk.”
Miss Vance and I exchanged sharp expressions. I asked, “Has anyone approached you, aboard ship, trying to establish a new friendship?”
His eyes frowned, his mouth smiled. “To get into my confidence, and then my briefcase? Other than supper with my friends last night, in that Broadway show of a dining room, I’ve been entrenched in this suite, reading plays-I devour manuscripts like chocolates.”
“What about last night? At dinner?”
He sipped his ginger ale and thought that over. “Well, that fellow Williamson. . Vanderbilt’s friend. . said he’d like a meeting with me.”
“Did he say why?”
“Yes-he’s an art dealer. Vanderbilt is a client-apparently, Williamson recommends buying certain paintings as an investment, I take it. Lives mostly in Paris, I believe.”
I jotted this down; Williamson was on our docket anyway-one of that elite half dozen who’d received threatening telegrams and been on Klaus’s list.
As we took our leave, Frohman apologized for not seeing us to the door, and again reminded Miss Vance-as if a reminder were necessary-to contact him for theatrical work.
“And I intend not to be an antisocial animal for this entire trip,” he said, with a salute of his ginger ale glass. “I’m having a party Thursday evening-and you are both invited.”
We accepted his invitation, and thanked him for his hospitality.
In the hall, Miss Vance was glowing from the reception she had received. But I reminded her that, for now at least, she was more detective than actress.